Espionage
by Angeline
Summary: Betrayal, sex, scandal, power, money, and manipulation, the oh-so-very elite world of espionage, where Lily Evans reigns as its current queen, is in perpetual danger of secret black-market Muggle alliances trying to exploit the very secret world of magic.
1. The Very Fine Art

**Espionage**

Chapter One: The Very Fine Art of Espionage

"_Knowledge is power._" Sir Francis Bacon

It was indeed a thrilling pleasure to obtain, seek, and gain intelligence. It is simply thrilling to harbor secrets and information about another individual living on the face of this planet. Governments, secret organizations, and other intel-seeking groups hunt, hunt, and hunt for this. They slave, kill, and are addicted to finding out information. Nothing can erase the valuable data that you have now gained, of course, unless they decide be done with it all and just kill you. That is the only way information truly is deleted... killing off the damn person.

All sorts of people I have known have been killed, just because they've mistakenly stumbled unto very well-kept secrets. The fact that a person even _knew_ the coveted information was infuriating to the other side, so they just killed the person. Death is not racist, sexist, ageist, or prejudiced. It accepts anybody to nobody. Colleagues, friends, enemies, lovers, the mailman... various sorts of people that I have had the pleasure of knowing have been gutted down, stabbed, and beaten to death. It's horrifying to live with. Ernie Flackmann, the doorman, who I've smiled to and greeted with a simple 'hello' daily, had been shot in the heart for arbitration to this office.

This world, this 'field', if you could call it that, was cruel.

But doing what I do... you certainly had to remain a level of composure.

I had been recruited right when I graduated Hogwarts as Head Girl. At first, I was to work in the lab with Charms at the Ministry of Magic. My Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, had told me I had a special gift with Charms and I should take advantage of it. He was the one that recommended me for the job. Of course, I took it! An itty bitty girl like me being offered such a great job? I wasn't stupid.

Anyways, working in the lab was alright. Strange objects like pianos, boxes, hairbrushes, and other random things were sent in with weird spells cast unto them. My job was to uncast the spell and make it a normal object again. I had mastered that perfect flicking of the wrist in Charms class, so no spell was too hard for my wand and I.

Discovering and noticing this fact, they moved me up in the hierarchy of the agency. I couldn't say I wasn't too pleased.

And now, I am a spy. An international spy of espionage. I work for the Wizard's Bureau of Investigation, making sure that Muggles all around the world are eluded from the fact that, yes, magic really does, in fact, exist. And to steal intelligence from other nations, if necessary.

Why?

Why did the Ministry of Magic move me to this new WBI?

Simple. It was because the Ministry of Magic has a hard time covering up their mistakes. Past ministers have often made mistakes, treaties gone astray, Muggles suspicious...

We are the ones covering up the footprints for them, yet we get no credit, while the Ministry shines with glory and absorbs every single ounce of credit.

Incompetent assholes.

So, you may ask, why do I even do my job if I there if I get no recognition?

That is very simple, dear friend.

Spies are always well-trained, smart, articulate, and sometimes even witty. I, Lily, have come in this full package with all sorts of extra features and other knick-knacks.

Also, the pay is very good.

The Ministry pays the WBI secretly, so that nothing will get 'leaked' out and so that the Ministry still has full authority over all Wizard-kind. They need the authority because it gives them that feeling of power. We do the 'dirty' work, per se... trading intelligence, keeping Muggles out of our business... the works.

I can say with exuberant confidence that I think I am a fairly talented agent. After being recruited, I trained about for about a year or two to be in the field. Last spring, I celebrated my twenty-first birthday. With vodka and whiskey, naturally. It does sound rather cliché, celebrating your twenty-first with alcohol, but, believe me... it was not my first taste.

So even an agent of my status and composure would probably faint after seeing the room I just saw.

Cluttered, piled, and in a huge mess -- the complete works of all the great artists of the world.

'Why,' I asked myself, 'Why... why would anyone steal the complete works of Da Vinci, Rembrandt, or Michelangelo! Especially from the Louvre?'

The Louvre had about the tightest security in the world. To steal these beautiful works gone undetected would've been next to impossible. But the Louvre is under the guard of Muggles... and let's face it, Muggles make mistakes. Wizards do not.

In disbelief, I walked forward and fell on my knees, feeling worthless compared to these masterpieces.

These beautiful, priceless works of art... scattered on the floor like everyday garbage.

The Mona Lisa smiled at me, as if she was waiting for me to work out the intricate puzzle. I smiled sadly back at her; instantaneously convinced that I could not. I stared at Michelangelo's Caravaggio, unable to believe that was real. How was I, Lily Evans, standing here in a room with all these beautiful paintings?

Coming to my senses, I soon realized why I was here: to collect evidence.

I took out the tiny micro camera and took as many snapshots as I could of the room.

Grasping reality and following instinct, I became aware exactly why I was on this mission in the first place. I touched my earpiece and took a deep breath.

"I'm done. Phoenix out."

- - - -

Safely returning to reality, it was confirmed when I stepped inside the glass doors of WBI headquarters, a front company called Aquade which made a soft drink called "Aquade". It was quite delicious, actually.

I smiled at all the familiar faces, waved a little 'hi' to the janitor, and slammed my briefcase on my desk.

The whole office looked back.

"I'm, er... back," I said awkwardly, hoping they'd shy away.

They did.

I started writing down my case notes... this was a requirement; writing down _exactly_ the list of events in chronological order being as specific as possible.

Not soon after I sat down, Lanning called me toward his desk.

I groaned in annoyance; Lanning was my boss and also the biggest pain in my ass. It also bothered me that his office was twice as big as mine.

I opened the doors to his office and was about to shoot him an annoyed look when I saw the back of his chair facing me. This was an odd occurrence; he always seemed to take pleasure in annoying me the way he did.

"Lanning?" I asked tentatively, wondering if I should've spoken at all. "Lanning?"

I heard him exhale, giving me a sign that he was indeed in the room.

"What's wrong?" I asked, careful to show any sympathy; after all, this _could_ be a potential joke, waiting to explode in my face.

"He's back."

"Who's back?" I asked.

"You know."

The two words I utterly feared of hearing in all my years of working.

"N-no," I gasped. "No fucking way."

"Yes fucking way," Lanning replied firmly. A vein on his left temple began to throb. "He's fucking back."

"No... fucking... way..." I whispered, unable to believe. "I thought we killed him in Guadalajara!"

"No, we didn't and believe it, Evans," Lanning said quietly, so quiet that I felt like screaming. Where the _fuck_ was my charismatic, energetic, and always-annoying boss? When Lanning was quiet, you knew he was serious... and when he was quiet, I got scared. And I _never_ get scared. And I mean never.

"And s-stealing those priceless works of art... he was just showing us... he was... back?" I faltered.

Lanning nodded brusquely. "Now, I won't lie to you; this has taken the whole bureau by surprise... but that's just his style. Fucking crook."

I swallowed. "What does this mean? Besides that he's back?"

Lanning closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands in stress. "It's fucking worse than ever."

I could not describe at all the disbelief that plagued me. "H-how..?"

"Well, first of all we have to get him before he causes anything serious. I haven't told that fucking Millicent Bagnold yet because she's going to have a fucking heart attack over this. And we have got to catch him _quick_ because if he starts doing anything serious, and knowing him he probably _will_, all of wizard kind will find out, leaving the Ministry to blame, which they will blame on us. And Lily?"

"Yes?" I chirped, hoping it would be at least _some_ bit of good news.

"We are so god damned _fucked_!"

- - - -

"Lanning, calm the fuck down," I responded, irritated by his constant use of his favorite word. It was contagious, now he got me saying it, too. That little fucker.

Robert J. Lanning was the director of my division at WBI. He likes to say 'fuck' a lot. Don't ask me what the J stands for; my guess is as good as yours. I work in the International Intelligence (II) branch of the WBI, figuring out what other nations were doing that could perpetually harm the United States while also working to protect the secrecy of wizards. I was born in England, but shortly moved to the States after I was recruited as an agent. I was then taught and trained about the secret world of being an operative and was expected to perform after a year or two.

I am now a proud United States citizen. And my British friends hate it. Even though they have no idea why I moved to the States in the first place.

I was, of course, educated on the background of all the top secret organizations that have ever existed. The RSC was on top of them, and until today, I thought I would never see them active again

The RSC stood for "Recurring Salem Conspiracy". It was basically a group of Muggles who had found out about the secret society of Wizardry back in the 1600s or so. High government officials who were devout Christians were the main chairs of this uber-elite foundation. They have only one goal: to bring down witches and wizards or to have us serve as slaves to the mortals.

Of course, this was the very last thing the Ministry (and the rest of the Wizarding World, WBI included) desired to happen. That was one of the major reasons the WBI was founded - to prevent the RSC from achieving their sadistic goal.

In the Christian faith, witches and wizards were the spawn of Satan, God was to be worshipped daily and praised to, and Satan was the ultimate villain, to be hated and despised by _all_ who were true to God.

Of course, magic existed back in those days. But the people who were put on trial then eventually hung weren't witches, of course... they were just victims of the Unforgivable Curses and who knows what other spells. People are _still_ trying to figure this missing link. The main _point_ of the Salem Witch trials was that... people _truly_ began to notice that witches existed, along with magic. They interpreted everything completely wrong, of course, thinking witches were evil and whatnot... but soon the magic community had to draw back. Spells had stopped. The whole wizardry community had never experienced a slump like this. But it was indeed necessary. There could be no suspicions that pointed fingers to them, everyone and everything had to be secret and lucrative and executed perfectly. There could be no mess ups.

And I'm glad to say, there wasn't. Late in the 1800s, there was evidence pointing toward the RSC as the ones who had started spreading rumors about witches and magic and whatnot, starting the whole thing in the first place. Eventually, everything died down and magic was deemed as something that simply did _not_ exist.

The RSC _has_ made other attempts to exploit the Wizarding World, but the most successful was the Salem Witch Trials to date, thank god. But every day, week, and month, it seems we're getting new intel that the RSC has somehow gotten hold of more evidence to present to the Muggles that magic really does exist. Thank goodness for the automatic denial that the Muggles exude each time they are shown this information.

The saddest fact of all: we aren't even _close_ to finding out who the chairs of the RSC are. All we know is that there are six top seats from different locations on the globe. The closest we've ever got to them was through our best agent, Joseph Larsen. They knew he was a wizard and working in intelligence... the field that wanted and so _desperately_ needed to affirm, so they had him killed.

That was what the RSC did. They tortured, squeezed out necessary information, and killed wizards of all genders, races, nationalities, etc. Harsh, it may seem, but that's the way they do. Out there, it's a dog-eat-dog world.

So, the RSC was currently our biggest threat. _And_ more than enough for the WBI to even handle at this point.

Keyword: was.

Now that _he's_ back, he's the even _bigger _threat.

Who was this 'he'?

It's actually quite simple.

I'm sure you've heard of him.

Voldemort.


	2. Partners

**Author's Note**: Hi all. I just wanted to answer some questions you guys left in your reviews. No, I have not written these type of stories before, but I find working in the field of intelligence to be fascinating, even though _I_ could never do that because I would not do well under torture, lol. The story will _only_ be from Lily's point of view, James will appear very, very soon... so don't worry :) I could never leave him out, I mean, this IS an L/J story, after all, but right now I'm focusing more of the technicalities and the intricacies of the WBI and Ministry. Yes, I have read Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code and I thought it was absolutely _brilliant_, but this story has no relation to that. **Espionage** and The Da Vinci Code are not similar at all; the only similar thing between them is that the opening scenes included scattered paintings of Michaelangelo and Leonardo Da Vinci at the Louvre. There is no dead curator or albino named Silas :) Don't worry. Thanks for the feedback, hope there is no confusion, and have fun reading!

Oh, by the way, this is the un-betaed, uncut version... my beta was taking a little longer than I had expected with the editing, so I decided to post this firsthand. The edited version should be up... in about a week, so please excuse any mistakes you see here :) What can I say, I'm lazy. And sorry for the wait. An edited version of "Chapter 1: The Fine Art" is posted along with this update.

**Espionage**

Chapter Two: Partners

"_The only thing to fear is fear itself_." Franklin D. Roosevelt

Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort.

Gosh, that name alone just helped thousands of memories, images, words, and thoughts fleet back into my mind.

He was so famous, so excruciatingly _brilliant_, yet everybody feared this ruthless wizard. He was so damn admirable but so bloodcurdling intimidating, nobody even dared to speak his very name.

It was such a funny thing that one person caused such a big scare in a world where it seemed like anything was possible. It's so ironic. At first, the Ministry dismissed him as another crazed lunatic out of the many who have tried and failed what he had finished and succeeded in, desiring and craving to have control over the world, but I guess we all really underestimated his manipulative abilities and questioned the loyalty of all his followers.

We had been hunting him for years, it felt like. We often got leads that led us to dead ends. Nothing was more unsatisfying than knowing we had lost. _He_ was calling all the shots while we were clumsily stumbling after his every disastrous move.

Hundreds, thousands, _millions_, perhaps, were effected by this wizard. The numbers were unbelievable and gobsmacking. What he did... the things that he had done to the innocent... simply putting it, it was terrible, horrible, and most of all, unnecessary.

During his reign, the whole wizarding world was unput. Everybody was nervous, frazzled... after all; they could die any second, couldn't they? It was a shame that they've _just_ realized that fact when a wizard was causing horror everywhere. Nobody felt safe; it felt like the times of Grindelwald and Hitler. Loved ones were broken apart, trust was shattered, everybody was teetering on an edge; waiting to be shoved off any second. There was no balance in the world. It seemed everybody only had themselves and could only depend on themselves. There were no smiles or laughter; warmth which once had showered the face of the earth, suddenly disappeared as these dark, dark times loomed on by.

It was complete mayhem. We didn't know who to trust, who worked for who, who was acting under the Unforgivable Curse or doing it out of free will... it was something that had gone beyond the control of magic. That was the time when I learned fear can be something so great, so vast... yet at the same time it could be so fucking scary, it blew my mind and just about everybody else's.

His army was gargantuan and numerous, filled with all kinds of creatures. The misunderstood creatures that everybody had come to fear. Giants, werewolves, vampires, kappas, banshees, boggarts (blasted things), and most frightening of all, dementors.

It felt like everybody's worst nightmare had come true.

But then everything slowly got better somehow. Our intel had become more true, our agents had adapted... and amidst all the chaos, we had come upon something. Something that didn't lead us to a dead end. Instead, it led us to the Dark Lord himself.

When I had finally, _finally_ caught him in Guadalajara... my moment of happiness, bliss, and that safe, warm feeling of security had came. I had done it. I had _finally_ fucking done it, after all this effort, time, and hard work. He was in my, excuse me, the _Ministry_'s possession...

And I was in for a _huge_ payday.

The fear he had put into me and the whole wizarding world seemed to have evaporated as quickly as it had came. It was an unsettling feeling and it definitely felt quite good.

I smiled ruefully to myself and feeling rather brilliant, I gripped my wand and ran it slowly and lightly against his throat.

"I've been hunting you down for months," I said. "You're quite good at hiding from the Ministry."

He said nothing.

"If I wanted to, I could Avada Kedavra you right now," I whispered maliciously, inching closer and closer toward his ear. I knew it was so, so wrong... but pride had taken over myself. We were centimeters apart; I could hear his exact breathing patterns. "But I won't, because I'd rather see you suffer slowly before you die."

He chuckled, slowly and deeply. "If I were you, I wouldn't say things like that."

I smiled, raising an eyebrow. What did he know? I just captured him, for Christ's sake! I decided to rub it in a bit more until he sounded as scared as _I _was.

"God, that was smashingly easy, catching you and your little ring of Death Eaters... or, tell me, have you just gotten softer," I murmured. "It's such a shame, you were quite good."

"I'll make you eat your words, _bitch_," he replied scathingly, clearly enunciating the last word.

I grinned amusedly to myself but inside, chunks of my confidence were breaking. Have I just made a huge mistake? "Raising the stakes in the competition, eh? We'll see, _fucker_."

"And that we shall." He kept composure, his red eyes burning a hole through my green ones. I could feel it.

I felt a bit shaky. It was wrong of me to brag and belittle him, especially in front of him, but I just couldn't help it. I stood straight. "Guards," I commanded. And with one last daring, lingering look into the pathetic eyes of this sad excuse of a wizard, I turned around. "Take him in."

I strode right out, feeling happier than ever, knowing that tonight, the Wizarding World would finally get a good night's sleep.

But right _now_, in my life, I had never regretted anything so much as to what had happened in Guadalajara.

Fuck Lanning. Fuck my pride. Fuck everything. Most of all, fuck Voldemort. Fuck that stupid son of a bitch.

Oh, _why_ did I have to be like that?

"I _am_ calmed the fuck down," Lanning snapped back at me, interrupting my reminiscing of Guadalajara.

"This is bad," I murmured.

"No shit, Evans," Lanning retorted.

"Is the Ministry doing anything?" I asked. "Are the people informed?"

Lanning snorted. "Like the Ministry ever does anything at all. No, the people don't know yet, but they probably will soon, since _he_ will probably act soon, knowing him."

"So what are we going to do?"

Lanning looked up at me, with a fleck of fear in his eyes. "I'm not sure." He exhaled.

"Pull yourself together," I directed. "I know you're scared, worried, and feeling _fucked_, but just sitting here isn't going to do anything. We've got to get as much intel as we can get as possible. So he broke into the Louvre and scattered all those paintings as a message to let us know he's alive?"

"According to what we know, yes, that's why he did it."

Oh, damn. Another thought occurred to me. "Does the RSC have anything to do with this?"

Lanning rolled his eyes. "_Please_, Lily. That is my fucking _dream_ for the Dark Lord to join forces with RSC. He'd have them _Avada Kedavra_'d so fast, we would've barely remembered their damn presence in Wizarding history."

I smiled. "Yeah, you are right. But why would he do that? Of all places, target the Louvre, I mean? Just to show us how powerful he is the second time he's around, or is there something secret about it?"

"The Louvre is practically the most famous art museum in the world with security tighter than some _airports_, for Christ's sake. He's probably just trying to show us how uncatchable he is this time. Listen, Lily, don't even bother wasting your time thinking about this. We have little intel as it is, don't stress yourself out."

"There's just something... fishy about why he would target the Louvre," I responded with an unsure feeling. I shook it off.

"I'm going to give the board a visit," Lanning said loathingly. He smiled grimly. "It should be... interesting."

&&&&&

I went back to my desk, feeling tired and defeated. The fate of all wizard kind was resting on my hands. And the bureau's, of course.

And for the first time, in a long time, I felt truly and utterly scared.

I had no idea what was going to happen and it was nerve-wrecking. My whole life, I've always felt this confidence exuberate from myself... I've always believed in myself, thinking that I could achieve whatever I wanted to make myself happy. I don't know why; it was just a lingering feeling inside of me. It never left or changed. It felt miraculously superb.

But now, this feeling has evaporated and this cold, harsh air of reality has filled. I could _die_... or even worse, let down hundreds of people. Hundreds of innocent people who have done no wrong.

I guess, all of a sudden, the weight, stress, and rigors of this job had smacked me in the face. What happened to my incredible drive? The drive that let me to the capture of Voldemort in Guadalajara?

It was... simply, gone.

I heaved a long sigh, wondering what would happen to me. I wouldn't go into hiding. Somebody would eventually find me, anyways.

My office, okay, more like _cubicle_, had a door that I usually left open.

Today, I closed it.

I needed some privacy... I needed some time to think and re-evaluate my life.

Was I really happy, doing _this_? Did it fulfill me?

I walked over to my sizable, mahogany cabinet and opened the doors, reveling slightly in its grandeur.

Amidst all the missions, paperwork, and meetings, I barely had time to come in here.

I smiled to myself. It really had been a long time. Too long, in fact.

I reached in for my Pensieve and pulled my wand from my pocket.

10¼ inches of absolute perfection. It was thin, long, and swishy... which was ideal for charmwork. I can still remember Mr. Ollivander's exact words.

The contents within the basin started to swirl very fast. It had become so transparent, I could see right through it. I've always thought this part of the Pensieve process was the most beautiful. It was liberating seeing the swirls of silver escape from the bowl. I touched the tip of my willow wand to my temple and began to think, rounding up past memories of Guadalajara and Voldemort.

Slowly, I dragged my wand back into the pensieve. Feeling content, I placed the bowl back into its proper place and silently closed the cabinet door.

I was utterly at peace when these memories were safely packed into the pensieve. Right now, the last thing I needed was memories of _him_.

There was a knock on the door and Lanning poked his head in. "Evans, since when did you lock your door?"

"Sorry for needing some privacy," I replied dryly. "After all, this is only _my_ office."

Lanning chuckled. "Very funny, Evans."

I raised an eyebrow. "I am quite the comedian. Anyways, what'd the board say?"

Lanning exhaled slowly. "Well."

"Well, what?"

Lanning opened the door wider and next to him was another man. He had wire-thin glasses, alarming hazel eyes, and messy black hair.

"This," he said, motioning to the other man, "is James Potter."

"Nice to meet you," I replied, offering my hand. He shook it firmly.

"It's going to be a pleasure working with you, Miss Evans; I've only heard good things about you. Must I say, I'm very impressed," James answered politely.

"What? We're going to be _working_ together?"

"Yes," Lanning responded hesitantly, "the board... has decided to recruit Mr. Potter here as your partner. He is a very good Auror who worked in the Ministry. You will be working together to track and bring down the Dark Lord."

"Partners," I repeated, unable to process the information. "...partners?"

"Yes, Lily," Lanning replied thickly, "_Partners_. James will be your partner from now on."

James smiled warmly. "I'm not all that bad, Lily." Ugh, wuss.

I blatantly ignored James and turned to Lanning, "Partners!" I seethed. "Why do _I_ need a partner? I was doing a great job without one!"

"Because," Lanning answered slowly, "times are getting tough, Lily. Stop being a stubborn bitch, swallow some of that pride, and get all the help that we can right now."

"I don't need any help," I responded through gritted teeth. But I knew Lanning was right. I needed to swallow my pride because that's the thing that would always get me in trouble.

Lanning said nothing.

"So, I guess this would make us partners in crime?" James asked, hoping to ease the tension in the air with a lame joke.

I didn't laugh. He wasn't funny. I just turned around and left.


	3. Phillip Stuart and the RSC

**Author's Note**: Oh my god, mucho apologies for the long wait! I would like to dedicate this chapter to **Rea** who kindly reminded me on my livejournal to update this story of mines. I just got back from vacation and I hope chapter satisfies you! Excuse the grammar and spelling mistakes! I am beta-less:( Thanks for reading and ooh, the plot thickens...

**Espionage**

Chapter Three: Phillip Stuart and the RSC

"_I hate making mistakes and this is not a game_." Wicker Park

I walked out of the Bureau like a madwoman.

I punched the '_Lobby_' button after I walked into the elevator. I felt a downwards lurch and I felt angry, sad, and confused all of a sudden.

How _dare_ Lanning chastise me! Even though it was true, I _needed_... desperately, to annihilate my dignity... the truth was, I simply did not _want_ to. Having no more self-glorification just meant I was losing my touch. That special _something_; my mojo, if you will. I was no longer the cream of the crop; la crème de la crème. I felt merely mortal again; it was an inconversant feeling, coursing through the pathway of my veins.

I exited the elevator and gripped the strap of my bag harder, feeling the eyes of the secretaries, assistants, and coworkers of _Aquade_ staring at me. I instantly knew the thoughts swimming in their heads, with confused looks on their faces. _Since when did Lily Evans leave early?_

I evaded their perturbed glances and strode out quickly. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, thinking it over again. What else did I ever think about?

Confronting Lanning like that, walking out of the door... at the time, it felt so disgustingly right, nothing would've stopped me. But now... now, I knew it was a big mistake. Maybe I should go back and apologize.

"Miss Evans, wait!" A voice cried behind me.

I turned around. It was _him _running towards me. "What?" I countered, a hint of impetuosity peeking through.

He reached a stop, bent over, and started panting, trying to catch his breath. "Why did you just walk out?" James questioning me had just made me even angrier and the situation even more depressing.

"Because my moron of a boss just assigned me a partner when I don't need one," I snapped. I cocked my head sarcastically. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need your help or anyone else's. Good day." I nodded my head, turned around, and began to walk again.

"You know, you're making a big mistake," James said softly. "Voldemort's becoming too big for even _you_ to handle. Why not just accept my help and maybe even Lanning's? We're all working towards the same goal."

I stopped walking.

"You'd be saving thousands of innocent lives, Lily. Millions, even."

What James said was so very simple and made so much sense. I _would_ be saving lives, especially if I had extra help... but, then again, is everything that simple?

I sighed and knowing I had been defeated, turned around. "It's not just that, Mister Potter; I've done this job for what seems like practically my whole life. I'm used to doing this job _solo_."

"Changes... are something that we, humans, do. Things won't change, Miss Evans, but we can." His eyes looked pleading.

_Do this for the world, Lily. You can change the world if you just let go of all your pride and accept the fact you need help_.

I thought of all the people that have been killed, the look of fear on the faces of wizards when the name 'Voldemort' was even dared to be whispered, and even Ernie. I sucked it up. I swallowed it the pride. I closed my eyes, bit my lips, and swallowed hard. "You can call me Lily."

He smiled, looking pleased. He stuck out his hand.

"Hello, Lily."

&&&&&

_The wind howled and whipped the blades of grass surrounding the old mansion mercifully. Inside, it was all dark and quiet. Spiders scuttered around and spun their intricate webs, the old staircase creaking slightly, and the sound of the wind outside._

_ Surprisingly, a room was lit. Inside were three men._

_"Who is Phillip Stuart?" A cold voice demanded impatiently. The owned of the voice was hooded and resting on an armchair. Another man stood dutifully by his side._

_ "I... I don't know, honestly!" Another voice whimpered back. "I honestly don't know! Please... let me go."_

_ "_Crucio_!" _

_ Shrieks of pain filled the room._

_ "You want to die, don't you?" he asked softly. "If that is truly what you want... I can make that happen."_

_ "I know."_

_ "Then tell me what I want to know!" He roared. "TELL ME!"_

_ "He... he was my father."_

_ A slow, hearty chuckle. "I knew you'd crack..."_

_ "Please... please... just.. just let me be."_

_ "I wish things could be as simple as that," The voice replied honestly. It exhaled. _

_ "Avada Kedavra!"_

And then I awoke, in a cold sweat.

&&&&&

He was good, all right. He definitely was.

I know I underestimated James; how could I not? His exterior was friendly, just the boy-next-door type. But his interior... it was, interesting, least to say.

The next morning, I walked into the offices of Aquade, looking as sharp as a tack.

I dreaded going to my office; it meant I would have to pass Lanning's on the way, and no, there were no shortcuts or other ways to my office. I could Apparate right before I passed his door and then Apparate to after I pass his door. But Lanning would know. He had the ears of a cheetah. There was no use trying; I was at a dead end. I smiled to myself. How clever Lanning was to make sure that everybody would have to pass his office in the morning, in case of cases such as these. Damn that sly dog.

"Glad you changed your mind," Lanning called out to me as I passed by his office.

Smarmy bastard. Either way, I guess I had to talk to him sooner or later. I knew exactly how to handle it.

"Fuck you," I smirked.

He looked smug. "Happy to see you're not fully changed."

"Good." I nodded. "'Cause I'm not."

I walked back to my desk. So, this wasn't too bad. I have a partner, so what?

Today, I would just get to work as I would've done any other day. But, all of a sudden, remnants of my flashback last night had rushed to me.

I had blanked out on this issue until just now; what did it _mean_?

I opened my computer quickly and started to run a background check on the name "Phillip Stuart" – I needed information.

James stuck his head in. "Anything new?"

I looked up from my computer. I hesitated. I knew I should tell James... he was my _partner_, after all, but I don't know; something was holding me back. I don't know what. I trusted him more than Lanning. I bit my lip and fought it. I'm just going to tell him.

"Okay, I had a dream last night," I hesitated.

"And? Was it a good dream?" James asked, entering my office and closing the door. "Or... a not-so-good one?"

"Not-so-good one." I bit my lip. "James, I think I witnessed somebody _dying_."

"You saw him _die_?" James asked. "Were you there?"

"No... I had a dream. Well, I don't know if it was him, but, a man... a man, he was being tortured about the whereabouts of a Phillip Stuart."

"Who's Phillip Stuart?"

"I really have no idea," I responded. "I'm running a background check right now."

James walked over.

A man showed up. A felon, of course...

"Lots of crimes," James commented, hunched over my computer.

"Not surprised," I murmured in reply, scrolling down the page.

"By the looks of what he's been involved in, he's a Death Eater for Voldemort," James pointed out.

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed, as my eyes stopped running through the screen and fixed onto one name: Joseph Larsen.

"What?" James asked.

"He's mentioned in Joseph Larsen's case files!"

"Who's Joseph Larsen?" James asked.

This was amazing. A breakthrough, finally. "You know what the RSC is, right?"

"Yeah, of course," James nodded, "The Recurring Salem Conspiracy."

"Years before I joined this agency, they were close to cracking the mystery--the exact identities of at least _one_ of the six chairs of the RSC. The Bureau knew this and so did the RSC--know one chair, know all. They were all connected in some way, shape, or form. From what I've been told and studied, Joseph Larsen was the closest out of all wizards who've tried," I explained quickly, "he almost identified one of the women on the board. He only caught a glimpse of her and described her briefly in his case files. Sadly, that's all we have."

"Wow that I did not know."

"Yeah," I sighed. "All we know is that one of the women chairs has brown hair, blue eyes, and a sharp, long nose with mole a centimeter to the right."

"Descriptive."

"You'd think, wouldn't you? How many blue-eyed brunettes exist in this world with moles on their faces? Countless. It's a lot harder than it's cracked up to be. Now this Voldemort business is cropping up, all our attention is focused on _him_ instead of the RSC. It's all rather complicated and confusing."

James nodded.

"Anyways, after he caught a glimpse of her, she ID-ed him and found out he was WBI. She--I mean, the RSC--had him killed immediately. A few years later, I joined the WBI. The morale was still so low, I thought of quitting before I even started." I chuckled. "But, lately, it's been getting to that level again. I call it the 'brunette' phase."

"I'm sorry," James answered. "Instill fear in others and it can do great things to people. Nice name, though."

"It's okay, I didn't really know him," I admitted. "But his work fascinates me. He was truly something."

"I bet he was. Should we tell Lanning?"

Again, I was unsure. "I'd love to, but, James... I really don't want to. I know it might help the RSC case and whatnot, but... the psychoanalysis they do these days... it's frightening."

James nodded in agreement. "It is... but, I don't know."

"I really don't want to go through all that, I've seen what happens after," I replied softly. "I'm positive Lanning would want me to be analyzed as quickly as possible, even if I _am_ a good agent."

"Fine, this is what we'll do," James said, sitting on the ledge of my desk. "We'll keep this Phillip Stuart business to ourselves and continue with our Voldemort business. We'll both research about Phillip Stuart the best we can and until we find out something good, we won't tell Lanning."

I smiled at James. "You said his name."

"Who's name?"

"Voldemort's," I replied simply. "You're probably the only other wizard I know who dares to say his name, besides Lanning, but he's fucking crazy, so he doesn't count."

James laughed, and as he laughed his wonderful and merry laugh, I noticed he often throws his head back, just slightly, when he is truly amused. "Well, I've said it at least twenty times already. And, why should I be scared of a _name_? That's what I think. People who say 'He-who-must-not-be-named' and 'You-know-who' are just making themselves more scared than they already are."

"You're surprising me," I stated bluntly. "You have more guts than I gave you credit for."

His laugh stopped. "In a good way, I hope?"

"Yes, a good way. I never knew a nitwit like you could be so damn entertaining and agreeable."

And to this statement, he again threw his head back, but this time, he threw it back so hard, he almost fell off the table.

Despite myself, I laughed. Just a hint. "You're kind of stupid."

"Sometimes," James admitted. "But what can you do about it?"

"Become smarter?" I suggested.

"Easier said than done."

"True." I paused.

"You're scared to say his name, aren't you?" James asked.

"Voldemort. There, answered your question?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You trembled a bit," James observed.

"It's hard not to. He's killed thousands. Millions, maybe." I shrugged. "Who knows, I may be next."

"True," James nodded, "but he's just a wizard. You've got to think of him as just a wizard."

"With extraordinary power," I supplied.

"Yes, but he once was just an ordinary wizard. Pretend he's normal."

I snorted. "Voldemort, normal? Please, James."

He shrugged. "It helps me if I picture it that way. Makes me feel stronger."

"You men always like to feel so damn macho."

"Of course, if we didn't, how would we protect the women?" He smirked.

I shot him a wry smile. "Very funny." Slowly, I stood up.

I smiled sweetly at him. "James, I don't need you to protect me. In fact, I'm doing fine myself." I turned around and lifted my heel back slowly into his groin. And as he groaned in pain into a crumpled heap, I waved daintily to him.

"Bye, James."


End file.
